


through the open pupil of the skies

by ThirstyForRed



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Aen Elle (The Witcher), Elder Blood (The Witcher), F/M, The Spiral, fractals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:14:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29489613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirstyForRed/pseuds/ThirstyForRed
Summary: Hen Ichaer of Red Riders is diluted, powerful just enough to make them capable navigators and fighters. Yet, it still gives them unique perspectives on the world.
Relationships: Nithral (The Witcher)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	through the open pupil of the skies

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [przez otwartą źrenicę nieba](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29401905) by [ThirstyForRed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirstyForRed/pseuds/ThirstyForRed). 



> my translation of two connected works I wrote over Valentine's weekend

"What's on your mind?" asks Nithral, half lying, half sitting by the edge of the small pool.

The red-haired elf by his side puts her pale hand to the water. She moves her submerged fingers, playing with crystal clear water, destroying the reflection of the evening sky. Where the entire firmament was visible just moments ago, there are now only waves. Chaos, barely even an echo of reality. But, thinks Nithral, maybe that's what better describes the nature of the world.

"Unlike you, I'm not a poet," laughs the girl. She shakes droplets of cold water from her fingers, sending them onto the still rough surface of the pool, creating new circles of waves.

"And yet. I wish to hear it anyway, Nam." Nithral moves closer to her and lifts her chin with his free hand. Namrevlis' eyes are the color of polished amber, but when she looks up with them, at the sky, they reflect all the stars of the firmament. The infinite space. If he hadn't already fallen years ago, he would gladly fall in love with this sight.

"I know... I know you see it all differently." He whispers into her lips.

She simply smiles - already seduced by him - and leans back to marvel over the starry sky above them.

"Each reality was graced with their own collection of stars, their own personalized sky," says Namrevlis, her voice deep and confident.

"Because of this, maps of the stars and skies, our navigators are able to find their way on the Spiral. Each set of stars is unique, and although there are infinitely many worlds, just like with snowflakes, the pattern never repeats itself." The elf laughs shortly and takes Nithral's hand in her own. "Or at least that's what Aen Saevherne tried to teach us..."

"Are they wrong?" ask Nithral, though he already suspects the answer. He draws her hand to his lips.

"And when are they right..." sighs Namrevlis. "Look there! Doesn't this cluster in the west look familiar? It's upside down, and on the wrong side of the sky, but they're the same stars that the _dh'oine_ call the constellation of Lynx."

With her free hand, she points to the dark sky, and although the stars are unusually pale, so pale that only a lynx could easily see them, they are visible.

"How is it possible," asks a red-haired girl with keen eyes. "How is it possible that the same stars can be seen here in Tir ná Lia?"

"How do you know they're the same stars? How can you be sure?"

Namrevlis purrs and smiles as if she knows something else. Something that gives her this certainty.

"I do not know that. Nobody knows. And that's the beauty of it all - it's impossible to study it. You have to, _minne_ , take my word for it."

"Then that's all you see when you look to the stars? Similarities?"

Namrevlis studies him with her eyes, still so full of reflections as if they were themselves small universes, a reversed reflection of reality, and blinks. And she smiles.

"What I see is self-similarity."

"Fractal?"

She nods.

"An infinitely complex structure that only seems chaotic. Imagine an intricate mosaic pattern - just like the floors in Auberon's throne room - but all you see is its mirror image observed through the keyhole. Imagine that you are trying to describe it, study it, but you can't even comprehend how the full pattern might look like."

"That's what our sky is?"

"That's the Spiral," says Namrevlis, and Nithral, deep within himself, knows it to be the truth. Or as close to the truth as anyone could get.

"What does that mean?" he cannot help but ask.

Namrevlis leans back and again, for a fraction of a second her eyes hold that small portion of the universe that they can see. The Spiral.

"I don't know." she finally blinks and says. Namrevlis smiles, all teeth and predatory glee, as she grabs her lover by the chin. "You tell me."

Nithral doesn't have eyes as keenly as hers - or other senses that would let him understand the true nature of things. But he knows, he has a certainty that comes from somewhere deep, from the core of his very being.

"Each world is only one speck, a single star on the Spiral. Our world, the world of _dh'oine_ ... Everything spins on Her arms - and we see only a part of her, visible through the open pupil of the sky.”

* * *

"Is it getting any better?" asks Namrevlis, and strokes the head of the male elf lying on her lap.

A bliss appears on his features, something that, due to recurrent migraines and weakness, rarely soothes him. He rests with eyes closed and mouth curving into a smile as she runs her fingers over his scars.

“Even the death is sweeter with you by my side, _en'ca minne_."

He slowly opens his eyes and they are as dark as the abyss itself. Just like in a song that they both once loved - if all the stars in the sky were put out, that's what would look down upon us.

"Nithral..." the girl whispers his name fondly, as he continues to simply watch and smile.

"It won't pass," he says and puts a finger to his temple. He runs a hand through his already rather long black hair, and grabbing Namrevlis' hand, he entwines their fingers together. " _We both knew it from the very beginning. But cherry up, silly. A storm is coming, let us enjoy the weather while we still can._ "

The elven girl laughs, deeply and sincerely, bringing their clasped hands to her lips.

"How dare you," Namrevlis says between giggles, "How dare you quote yourself."

Nithral closes his eyes and once against that calmness falls over his features. His brown complexion looks like there was never a single worry in his mind. And Namrevlis knows that right now, at this moment, he's somewhere elsewhere.

Somewhere far away, where she no longer has access to him. Somewhere where his scars can heal and he's not alone in the void. Looking for something that neither a poet nor a bard would be able to fully describe. Something so precious, something that will never fade away.

"As you walk between the worlds, Nam..." says Nithral, but his voice is distant and absent. "You never need compasses, sextants, or maps. You are the only one who has eyes keen enough to see the paths in turns and twists of the Spiral."

"And what good does this talent bring me, when I'm unable to travel alone? Open portals myself?" She doesn't even try to hide the bitterness in her whisper. But she looks up, at the starry sky, for a moment. "It would be my wish to get you out of here. To find a way to ease your pain..."

Nithral opens his eyes. His irises are darker, darker than they were years ago, but that's only a slight difference. Because they are still very alive, there is the same cold spark in them - the same depth. Had it not already happened a long time ago, Namrevlis would have been delighted to drown in them. Let them slowly devour her entirely.

"I suppose that's my gift," smiles Nithral. Although there probably should, there's no sorrow in this smile. He untangles his fingers from Namrevlis' grip and reaches out to stroke her cheek. "This knowledge. How it all has to end. _Ess'tuath esse_. I knew how to learn weaving snowflakes and ice into impossible, endless patterns. I knew how to learn to love you and return to you. I will know that as well."

" _Va'esse deireádh aep eigean, va'esse eigh faidh'ar._ " Namrevlis recites. Something ends, something begins. The old wisdom that everyone knows. A little bit of hope.

"No. Not this time, Nam," laughs Nithral. "Something will simply end."

"Hellion, that you are," says the girl, reaching to his cold hand on her cheek. Without any sorrow. "Destroyer and tormentor. As if crushing and tearing your own art wasn't enough, now you're also ruining my heart."

He rises from her lap, eyes dark as the abyss itself and a devilish smile on his lips. Something that everyone desires, but he, insanely, gave himself to her. And with his mouth by her lips he says:

"That's my gift and my curse, _minne_. Something only for you, a keepsake for when I'm finally gone."

"Till death," says Namrevlis, with her own smug smile. An echo of the oath they once made to each other.

"And I will always remain in your memories."


End file.
